


Guides

by mamadeb



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related: sentineltoo, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:50:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamadeb/pseuds/mamadeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair both face challenges in the aftermath of Sentinel Too.<br/>This story is a sequel to Teacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guides

## Guides

by Debra Fran Baker

Author's webpage: <http://www.panix.com/~dfbaker>

Author's disclaimer: Pet Fly's, not mine.

* * *

Acceptance III: Guides 

Debra Fran Baker 

Jim stood in the doorway of the therapy room. Blair was too busy trying to eat to notice him. Under the watchful eyes of his therapist, he grasped the oversized handle of his fork and tried to guide the food to his mouth. Over and over again, he would twist his hand incorrectly and the food would fall out before it reached the goal. Several times, he tossed the fork down in frustration and tried to brush the hair out of his face with the back of his wrists. 

"I hate this! I'm a grown man. I shouldn't have to wear a bib to eat!" 

"Mr. Sandburg...Blair...you've made tremendous progress in just a few weeks. You have to be patient." She placed the fork back in his hand. "It's still better than being fed." 

He nodded. This time, screwing his face in concentration, he managed to get a forkful into his mouth. Jim's heart leaped at his triumphant smile. Drinking was a little easier because the plastic mug had two handles, but it was no less of a success. He added his own applause to that of the therapist. 

"Jim! Don't look at me like this!" Jim took in the messy clothing, smudged face and tangled hair. 

"You're so beautiful." It was simple truth. "I just had a talk with your doctors. There is no medical reason for you to stay here any longer. You're going home with me today." 

Blair smiled as Jim took one of his clumsy hands. 

* * *

The moment when Jim could not feel Blair's heartbeat was burned into his memory. For that brief time, Jim's life had no anchor. He couldn't see it continuing beyond that point. 

Blair was his life. He knew that as certainly as he knew Simon's scent of cigars, coffee and cologne. Which meant that at that moment, Jim was also dead. Maybe his body would live on, but he didn't know and he didn't care. 

And then, in answer to his cries and his pain and to the true and sincere prayers of all those around him - not just the cops - the _fellow_ cops \- who knew and loved Blair, but also the EMT's who'd never met him, Blair came back and Jim's life began again. With it came all the feelings he'd been denying to himself, and the sure and certain knowledge that those feelings were reciprocated. 

There was more joy than Jim could contain. The paramedics, tears streaming down their own faces, had rushed in as soon as Blair's eyes had opened, so Jim had to content himself with a brief kiss. He stood and backed into Simon's waiting arms. Jim clung to his friend as he watched the EMT's attend to his partner. 

"Jim, go with him. We'll take care of things here." Simon's voice was gentle. 

Jim looked at all of his friends' faces; at the mixture of relief and determination on them; at Megan's tears and anger. 

"Alex Barnes is _mine._ " 

Megan touched his shoulder. "We'll get her for you, Jim. And for Sandy. Especially for Sandy." 

Henri nodded fiercely. "You be with him now. He needs you." 

"Only until he's settled. Someone follow with my truck?" Simon nodded and took Jim's keys. 

True to his word, as soon as Blair was put in ICU, with tubes and a ventilator and uniforms watching him and Simon watching the uniforms, Jim gave Blair a gentle kiss on his still damp forehead and ran out the door. 

The truck was waiting in the hospital lot. He got in. He was quivering in anger. He couldn't even pick out the correct key from the ring, much less get it into the ignition. 

Alex Barnes was another Sentinel. He could feel his hackles rise at that very thought. How dare a foreign Sentinel invade _his_ territory and threaten his tribe? The reaction must have been cell deep, it was so strong. Rage flooded his mind, driving away all rational thought. Just as well he couldn't drive yet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the black jaguar snarling on the parking lot, its black on black spots gleaming in the sun. Beside it was the wolf. Its intelligent eyes looked straight at him before turning to the panther and stroking it with its muzzle. 

Jim heard his own voice in his head. 

"Breathe, Sentinel. Concentrate on breathing." It was Jim's voice, but it was Blair's cadences. 

Blair had shown him this technique dozens of times. He took the deep breaths and tried to center himself. When Blair was with him, it was easy - he just flowed along Blair's voice. He'd never tried it alone before. He found it took more concentration and he wasn't as grounded, but he could do it. The panther in the lot also calmed. 

With his rage minimized, Jim could think again. Okay. He had to find the other one and rmove her somehow. 

"Feel her." 

Feel her. There it was, an intrusion on the edge of his thoughts. No wonder he felt crowded. It wasn't Blair. Never Blair. It certainly wasn't the furniture he'd piled in his basement. It was the other. 

"Focus." 

He could feel his anger rising again at the thought of the other. _She_ made him kick the guide out. With an effort, he pushed the anger away, and aimed his thoughts and senses towards her. There - there was the spotted jaguar. It was sitting. Sitting by water. The marina. He wanted to run there, catch her, kill...The black and the wolf growled at him. His head began to hurt. He backed away from the thought. Okay, but she had to be caught, for the sake of the Tribe. 

There was a knock on the truck window. Megan smiled at him as he rolled down the window. 

"We just got a call. Alex Barnes is in the marina on a yacht." 

"How did you know...good old fashioned police work, right?" 

"Got it in one. Jim, I'll make you a deal. You tell me what's going on with you and I'll let you drive." 

"It's my truck, Conner." He unlocked the passenger door. 

He spent the trip telling her about his senses and being a Sentinel. She accepted it. 

"There are legends among the Kooris about such people, you know. And it does tie everything together. And Alex Barnes is another?" 

"She's no Sentinel, but she does have the senses." 

"Well. Now that I know, I can help you deal with her." 

Henri was waiting for them at the marina, crouched behind a car. "She's in that yacht in front of us. Harbor patrol is out, as you can see, so she can't go anywhere. She was shooting at us just a few minutes ago. She just stopped." 

"You think she's reloading?" Megan stared at the ship. 

Henri shook his head. "Not enough bullets by half. Something else happened." 

"She gets these blinding headaches. We saw on the video tape." Jim brought up his hearing in an attempt to find out what was going on. At first there was too much noise. Then he heard, "Filter." Again, it was harder alone, but he managed it. He could hear Alex groaning in pain. 

"I think she may have one now. Which means this is my best chance to get her." He stood up and started walking to the dock. 

"Jim! Where are you going?" Megan ran to catch up with him. 

"I'm going to commandeer that rowboat over there and get the bitch." 

"Not by yourself. I'm going with you." 

"I can handle this by myself, Connor." 

"Listen to me. You're too close to this. Let me go with you and keep this proper, so that your courts don't throw it out." 

"You like Sandburg, too." 

"Yes, I like Sandy. You're the one in love with him, remember?" He looked at her, startled. 

"What...how..." 

She laughed. "I'm not blind, you know." 

"It seems I am." He shook his head. "Okay, Conner. I can use your help." 

"Good. Better I get into a hand-to-hand with her than you." 

"Yeah. She fights dirty." 

"Only way to win, Jim." Megan grinned and got into the rowboat. Jim joined her to row as silently as possible to the yacht. Jim knew that the other would hear him if her hearing was on line, but she was still moaning in pain. It seemed likely that even if she could hear anything, or distinguish sounds she could not stop them. 

They rowed the boat to the side of the yacht. There was a ladder attached to the side. Megan kicked off her heels and began to climb with Jim close behind her. As soon as they got on deck, they drew their weapons and Jim focused in on the other's groans. The shot nearly deafened him. 

He ran to the front of the boat, ignoring Megan's cries for caution. The other was there, waiting for the city's Sentinel, desecrating his territory and he had to remove her. 

The Sentinel pounced on the other with a snarl. She responded with bites and scratches and hard high heels. Yes, this was a match! In their minds, two jaguars fought it out with claws and teeth. The humans forgot their civilized weapons entirely. This was a cell-deep response to an invader and as an invader. Not even their senses could help them here. He didn't hear Megan call for backup, either. 

He was without a guide, alone with the other. The other had no guide. She wanted his, but she hurt him instead. She hurt the guide! He twisted his body to pin hers to the ground, but she fought back. What would the guide do? He'd been with him so long, he should know. 

She didn't have one. She was new. The senses were new. They hurt her. He could use them to hurt her. He got his mouth to her ear, and he screamed as loudly has he could. She screamed back and collapsed on the deck. He'd turned his own hearing down, just like the guide would have said, so her scream did not hurt. She was helpless now. He could kill her. Except - she was no longer trying to kill him. The fight was over. The woman with him was cuffing the other. Members of his tribe were climbing onto the yacht. It was over. 

Everything looked and sounded far away. He could almost see his own body sitting slumped on the deck, drained of all energy. A tribesman...no, a fellow cop...Henri...Henri was shaking him, talking to him. 

"Jim...Jim, come back! Ellison, where are you?" 

Jim blinked his eyes slowly. "I'm all right, H." He felt like a stranger in his own body, as if something had taken over. If he didn't have Blair to keep him grounded, that's what he would have become forever. That's what Barnes was facing if she didn't find someone to help her. Jim didn't know if that would be a worthy punishment or create an opponent to fear, but right now he didn't care. She wouldn't be threatening Blair for a long time. 

He struggled to his feet. 

"Have to get to the hospital." 

Henri and Megan exchanged glances. "I'll take you there, Jim. Henri can manage here." 

"Just get me to my truck and I'll be fine." 

"You are not fine, Jim Ellison, and Simon would kill me if I let you go by yourself. You _should_ go home." 

"I'm not going home. I'm going to the hospital." 

"I know. Besides, there isn't anything in your home, is there? My car is at the hospital anyway. Let me take you back and I'll leave you the truck for when you do go home." 

Jim nodded. He wasn't going to leave the hospital without Blair walking beside him, but she didn't have to know that. And he was tired, so maybe it would be a good thing if Megan drove. He followed her back to the rowboat and watched her put on her heels again. He still felt far away from reality, but he was in his body now. 

Megan drove in silence, which Jim appreciated, and parked his truck reasonably close to the hospital. She handed him his keys, found her own car and drove off. Jim sleepwalked to ICU, where Blair was down to an oxygen tube and an IV. He stood there for a long time watching Blair breathe. He could see his eyes move under his lids. Was Blair dreaming? Could one dream while unconscious, or was Blair asleep? 

"He's asleep, Jim." 

"Simon. I didn't hear you." 

"You didn't hear me?" Simon looked at Blair. "I think I understand. Good collar, Jim. I'm glad she's off the streets." 

"For how long?" 

"I don't know, but prison would probably be a horror for her." 

"I hope so." 

"Jim!" 

"Look at him, Simon. As beautiful as an angel, and she wanted to kill him. She deserves whatever she gets. And now that he's going to be fine, I can relax." 

Simon looked at him. His voice was gentle. "Jim. We need to talk and now." 

"I need to be here when Blair wakes up, so I can take him home." 

"They'll tell you when he's awake. You have to come with me now. Please?" 

"Okay. I just need to do something first." Jim walked to Blair's bedside and, in full view of the nurses and of Simon, kissed Blair on the cheek. Simon didn't react at all. He just put a hand on the small of Jim's back and led him to a waiting area just outside of ICU. 

Jim sat on a couch and waited patiently while Simon bought a bottle of fruit juice from a vending machine and sat down next to him. 

"Here. You need to drink something." 

Jim shrugged and took a sip. "What's going on, Simon?" 

Simon took a deep breath. "It's about Blair. Think, Jim. We don't know how long he was in that fountain. We don't know how long he wasn't breathing, or how long his heart was stopped. You know what that means." 

Brain damage? "No! Oh, God, Blair...how bad do they think it will be?" 

"They don't know yet. He has to wake up first, and then they have to run tests. He could have physical problems, he could have speech problems, he could have memory problems and we won't know until he opens his eyes." 

"Could he be a ve..." He couldn't say the word. 

Simon looked down. "They don't know. But he does seem to be dreaming,so his mind is functioning, and he is breathing on his own. So there is plenty of room for hope, at least as far as that is concerned." He wiped at his eyes. 

Jim looked closely at Simon. "Captain?" 

"Damn it. When I think that we might lose that brilliant mind...that great kid. You know, I was looking forward to the day he was going to get his doctorate? Just thinking about it made me proud. As proud as I feel when I think about Daryl graduating from high school. I was...I _am_...going to get invitations for the entire Major Crimes unit so we can cheer one of our own, and I'm going to sit there and glow. Because that kid is nothing but stubborn and he will get his degree." 

"Yeah. He is that stubborn. So long as that part works, the rest will follow. Just like me." 

"You're nothing but stubborn, too. Two of a kind. No wonder you two are..."Simon stopped. 

Jim shook his head. "I know I just put on a show, but until he's back, I think we shouldn't go there." 

"Your call, but, Jim...whatever happens between the two of you is fine by me. Except for you two breaking up, I mean." 

"No chance of that." Jim smiled briefly. Then he dropped his head to his hands. 

"You look exhausted. Why don't you take a nap or something while I get us some dinner? I know I'm not getting you out of this place until something changes for Blair." 

"You got that right. I'll be here. Somewhere." 

"Are either one of you related to Blair Sandburg?" 

_Yeah. I'm his boyfriend and that's his father._ Too bad neither was true...yet. 

"I'm his captain, Simon Banks, and this is his partner, Jim Ellison." 

" _You're_ Jim?" The nurse, whose nametag read "Michael Burns", smiled at him. "Mr. Sandburg has been calling your name. He's starting to wake up." 

Jim was back at Blair's bedside in moments. 

"Jim! I'm back! Where are you!" Blair was tossing on the narrow bed, his arms moving wildly and his hands flapping oddly. "I'm here, Chief. I'm here." There were too many tubes. Jim couldn't let him keep flailing around. Blair responded to his touch immediately. His eyes opened. 

"Jim! Oh, Jim. I thought...Alex...Thank God!" His speech was oddly slurred. 

"It's all right, Blair. You can go back to sleep." 

"No...first...I have to tell you. Jim - love you." 

When did his heart start beating again? "Love you, too, Blair. Always." 

"Always." Blair drifted off again, a lopsided smile on his face. Jim took one of his limp hands and squeezed it gently before leaning down to kiss his cheek. Blair stirred a little, but didn't wake. 

"Ahem." Simon was standing next to the open cubicle, the nurse by his side. 

Jim stood up. "Sorry, captain." 

"About what? That boy needs everything you can give him. And you can give him a lot." Simon smiled. 

"There's something wrong. His speech, his hands...something isn't right." 

"He just woke up, Mr. Ellison. It could be nothing. He'll probably sleep through the night now." 

"He woke up knowing who he was and who you were, and what had happened. I'd say some of our prayers were answered. He's still _Blair._ " 

Jim nodded. "He's still Blair. I have to hold on to that." That and that he actually loved him. 

"Well, if Blair's going to be all right and going to sleep through the night then there is no reason for us to stay here. Is there?" 

"I would say it would be best if you and Mr. Ellison went home and had something to eat. If you leave your phone numbers with us, we'll call if anything happens." 

"I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave Blair alone here." 

"Jim, you can't do any good by staying here." 

"What if he wakes again?" 

"Mr. Ellison, he's exhausted. Let him sleep." 

"I can't stand the thought that Blair might wake up alone and confused." 

"Jim, you can't help Blair if you need your own sleep. You'll be back in the morning. Just follow me home now. I'll lend you a toothbrush and a razor." 

He rubbed a hand over his face. He was ready to fall apart. As much as he needed to be with his Blair, the thought of a bed was seductive, and Simon was a good cook. 

"Are you sure he'll sleep through the night?" He looked at the nurse. 

"Mr. Ellison, your friend has had a traumatic experience. He'll be more asleep than awake for a couple of days. Give me your phone number and I'll call you if he does wake up." 

"Deal." He handed the nurse a business card. "Just let me say good night first." Simon nodded. 

Jim stood and watched Blair sleep for awhile. He never looked more like an angel. Jim gently touched his face and stroked the tangles of hair on his pillow. Blair stirred slightly but didn't wake. 

"Good night, angel." He bent to kiss Blair's cheek. "I love you." For some reason, his eyes were wet. Jim had never felt such intense emotions before. Everything prior to this seemed muted, just the way life felt without his senses. 

"Ahem." Simon waited by door. He was smiling, though. "We better get going, Jim." Jim nodded and tore himself away from Blair. 

He might as well have spent the night in the hospital for all the good that bed did him. He spent most the time he should have been sleeping worrying about Blair and what his life would be like if he were actually brain damaged. But when he did sleep, the images were very different. 

His brief dreams were filled with pictures of Blair - Blair sleeping on Jim's bed; Blair cooking in the kitchen; Blair dressed in professorial tweeds, his graying but still long hair tied back from his face; Blair beside him in the truck, his hands dancing in animated discussion; Blair naked and sweaty on the living room floor; Blair with white curls sitting on a rocking chair with a child that looked like Daryl Banks on his lap. They were visions of a future that might not come to pass, and when he would realize that, he would wake up again. 

"No." 

"Mr. Sandburg, you have to eat." 

Jim walked into Blair's cubicle in ICU to find a nurse trying to feed him from a tray of what looked like mush. 

"Jim!" That smile was pure Blair. 

"Hi, Chief. What's the matter? Not hungry?" 

"I don' wan' de nursse t'fee me." He banged his arms on the blanket. "Da' has don' wor." 

Jim looked at the nurse in panic. 

She smiled reassuringly. "Mr. Sandburg's speech problems are common to people who have suffered hypoxia. He's actually sounding quite well." 

"And his hands?" 

"We don't know. Mr. Sandburg.." 

"B'air!" 

"All right, Blair. Blair will be transfered to Neurology today, where his doctor will test to see just how much function he has. Meanwhile, he has to eat his breakfast." 

"Wan' Jim to fee' me." 

Jim shrugged. "I'd be happy to feed him." 

"I'm afraid it's not quite so simple...Jim, is it?" 

"Jim Ellison. I'm his partner." She nodded. 

"Blair, your speech problems are caused by a deficit in motor control." Jim sighed in relief. That meant that it wasn't is mind. "It's possible that you would have trouble swallowing. I'd rather I fed you right now." 

"She has a point, Chief." 

"You ca' stay in d'roo' an' wa'ch. You ca' show Ji' wha' t'do." 

Jim and the nurse looked at each other. "It could work. Anything to get your friend to eat." 

"Okay, Chief, I'll help." 

"No a'rp'ane jo's, kay?" 

No airplane jokes? Oh, open the hanger, here comes the...He grinned. "No? Not even once?" 

"No!" 

"You're the boss, Blair." 

Blair just nodded, smiling. 

Jim and the nurse changed places. 

"Now, then, Mr. Ellison, let's start with very small bite - less than half a spoon of that applesauce, say." 

He dipped the plastic spoon in to the sauce and brought it up to Blair, who had no trouble swallowing the tiny portion, though he did make a face. 

"I' nee'z cinna'n'n. I ma' a goo' appasawse, righ' Ji'?" 

Jim, who was concentrating on taking a small piece of egg, nodded. 

"I ma' i' wi' Granny Smith's and lea' i' chunky. S'good wi' latkes." 

"Open up." The egg went in easily. 

"Try the toast, Mr. Ellison. Let's see how he can chew." 

"Yuck! I hae' col' toas'." But he had no trouble chewing it. "Excellent. Give him larger bites. Blair, you are doing very well indeed. I have had patients who had to be taught how to chew again." 

"Ready for some coffee?" 

"I's decaf. Want t' special blen' we ha' a' home." 

Jim looked at the nurse as a priest would look at a heretic while Blair continued to talk about the blend he'd developed and then sequed into other things he'd invented. 

The nurse just smiled. "Blair's attention span can be measured in seconds right now - unless he's calling for you. Caffeine would make him more hyper." 

"Yes, Chief. Your salsa is the best. I couldn't keep up with him before the accident. Is this going to continue?" 

"Probably not. On the other hand, if he's always somewhat mercurial, he probably already has coping mechanisms in place." Jim thought about all the various projects Blair could handle at once. Could it be that he had them all so that when his attention waned for one project, he could work on another? It would be a Blair-like solution. 

"I think he does." 

"Guys? Fee' me!" 

"Coming up. Have some coffee." He held Blair's head with one hand as he carefully let him sip from the cup. 

"You are a natural, Mr. Ellison. Give him slightly larger portions. I'm going to leave you two alone. Just yell if you need help." And she was gone. 

Blair kept up a stream of chatter, stopping only to open his mouth and to chew what little of the rather soft breakfast required chewing. Jim continued to listen as Blair shifted from one subject to another with no warning. He'd never _tell_ Blair this, but he loved listening to Blair talk. Not only did the kid know everything, he said it in a rich, dark voice that sent shivers down Jim's spine when he concentrated on its sound. He didn't dare let it happen now, but he knew it could. 

This level, though, was extreme even for Blair. The only good thing was that his speech actually improved the more he went on, until he was barely blurring by the time breakfast was over and Jim pulled out something he'd brought with him. 

Blair's eye's lit up. "You're going to comb my hair? 

"It needs it. Scoot down." Jim helped Blair move a little down the bed so Jim could sit behind him. 

"Where do I begin?" It was a tangled mess. 

"Top down and use your fingers first if you have to. OW!" The comb would not go through the knotted curls. Jim set it down and gently began to work the tangles out with his fingers. It felt like silk. Blair all but purred, the stream of chatter silenced as he seemed to enjoy the attention. Soon enough, Jim had Blair's hair free of tangles. He began to comb it - and Blair did purr then, and nuzzle at Jim's hand when he could. 

"Oh, man, that feels so _good_. " 

"You like getting your hair combed?" 

"It's so sensual. You should see what happens when it's brushed." 

"Next time I'll bring a brush, then." 

"Oh, yes." 

Once it was combed, Jim started to play with it. He'd just arranged Blair's curls to frame his face when a nurse's aide came in to remove the breakfast tray. She stopped short at the entrance. 

"Oh, my God! He's as beautiful as an...." 

"Angel?" Jim smiled. "I know. But he always is." 

"Come on, man. I need a shower and this hospital gown thing is not exactly my style." 

Jim and the aide exchanged smiles. 

"You're being transfered to neurology now, Mr. Sandburg. Once you get settled in a room, someone will give you a shower and a shave." 

"I'm being transfered now?" Blair sat up straight. 

"You don't need to be here anymore. I'm supposed to take you down for tests as soon as I get the trays finished. Once they're over, you'll go straight to a room on that service." 

"What sort of tests?" 

"Hey, Chief, after all the tests you give me, you can't be worried about those." 

"I can if they involve sticking pointy objects into my skin. I am so not into needles and blood tests." 

"They're going to find out how much therapy you'll need." 

"Oh. Okay." 

"Mr. Ellison...maybe you should braid his hair. It'll be more comfortable for him and it won't get so tangled." The aide had a very long braid down her back, so Jim decided she was an expert. He'd brought a couple of elastic bands along with the comb. He plaited Blair's hair and fastened it. 

"That looks good." The aide nodded. 

Blair picked up his arms and tried to feel the hair with his hands, but they wouldn't do what he wanted. He pounded the bed in frustration. Jim stroked his shoulders. 

"Don't worry, Chief. You'll be fine. Give yourself time." 

Blair turned to him. "What if I'm not? What if you have to feed me and do my hair and ... whatever else... forever?" 

"If that means you'll be with me forever, then I'll do anything." Jim heard himself say the words, but all he could focus on were the pictures of Blair before and Blair as he might be, helpless and dependent on him. And he became angry. 

"Really?" 

Jim forced a smile and kissed him on the forehead. "Really." 

"Mr. Sandburg? You have already improved. We could barely understand you this morning." 

"How much? Do you have recordings? Can you understand me now?" 

"Whoa. Slow down, big guy. We understand you just fine." That change was fast enough to give him whiplash. Too fast for him. He watched Blair's hands sitting motionless on the covers. Blair's hands were never quiet. He used them to talk as much as he did his mouth. The dark thing inside of him grew. 

"Blair, mind if I step out for a while?" 

"It's probably a good idea, Mr. Ellison." She glanced at the bedpan. 

Jim got off of the bed and kissed Blair's head again. 

"I'll see you before they move you." 

"You have a gorgeous boyfriend, Mr. Sandburg," he heard as he left. 

Boyfriend. Forever. Had he really said "forever?" 

Would he take care of Blair if Blair needed him? He looked into his heart, and the answer was the same. He loved Blair and what ever Blair needed, he'd get. 

He'd wasted so much time being afraid. He and Blair could have been together before. He could have loved Blair as Blair was. He lost that chance. Would he ever feel Blair's hands on his body again? 

He could feel the rage building. All the time he wasted, all the time that could have been if it weren't for Alex Barnes. And now Blair was not Blair anymore. 

"No, he isn't. But is that a bad thing?" The nurse from the night before was standing next to him, flanked by a wolf and a black jaguar. He didn't seem to notice the animals. 

"Isn't what?" 

"Mr. Ellison, you're not the first person who has wondered if a trauma changed a person." 

"Isn't change like that bad?" 

"Is he weak? Will this kill him?" 

"Blair? Blair will fight. He'll be on his feet and using his hands." 

"Will that hurt him?" 

"No. He'll be better, stronger." 

"And if he loses the fight?" 

"He'll keep fighting. And I'll be there." 

"Where he goes?" Where _he_ goes? Where he goes, because without Blair there was nothing. 

"Where he leads, I'll follow. What ever he needs is his." 

"Can you watch him fall?" 

"If I must." But if he could, he'd catch him,and he'd always pick him up. 

"Let the Blair that was go. Embrace this one. Let him find his way." Jim stood there. He thought about "the Blair that was." And he saw him pick up a backpack and smile as he left. But "this one" had the same smile and it was welcoming. The dark thing died. 

"Are you all right, Mr. Ellison?" It was the long-haired nurse's aide. 

"What? Where...yeah, I'm fine. How's Blair?" 

"He's fine. I'm just going to get a wheelchair to take him down to neuro. Go see him." 

Blair was in a fresh gown and his face had been shaved. Jim didn't notice. 

"They're springing me, sort of." 

"You look so beautiful." 

"Jim, when we get home, I'm running tests on your vision." 

"Run all the tests you want, it won't change things. Angel." Jim sat down on the bed, and gently and purposefully picked up each of Blair's hands and kissed them in turn. 

"Oh, God, Jim. I love you." Blair leaned towards him, his arms open. Jim caught him in his own arms. Blair kissed him on the lips for the first time. Jim melted. Suddenly, his entire universe was Blair's mouth. It was warm and inviting and tasted of applesauce and toothpaste and, above all, of Blair. He didn't want to stop. He wanted to do more, to taste all of his partner. He wanted to drown in the sensations. 

Blair broke contact. "Oh, Jim...When...when I get home, we'll do this right." 

"When you go home. In _our_ bed." 

"Yeah. My stuff...you know where my stuff is?" 

"Relax. We'll get it back. The loft will be just the same. Or better." 

"Ahem." The aide was there with a wheelchair. 

"Chief, I have a feeling I won't be welcome for those tests. I hate to leave you, but..." 

"Give my love to the boys at the station, okay?" 

"You got it, Angel." 

Blair shook his head. "Angel." 

"Get used to it, Chief. 

He helped transfer Blair to the wheelchair, and got a kiss for his effort. 

"Mr. Ellison, will you be back this afternoon?" 

"I expect so." They couldn't keep him away. 

"Dr. Glasser, who will be Blair's neurologist, has requested that you meet with him after Blair's tests." Jim nodded. He watched the aide take Blair to the elevator and disappear behind the doors. He followed Blair's heartbeat for several minutes, and then realized he had no place in the ICU anymore. He waved good- bye to the nurses. The nurse from the night before wasn't there. 

Now the question was, where did he go? He didn't want or need to wait around the hospital. He could sense that his guide was in good hands. The loft was probably still bare and he didn't want to do any furniture lifting right now. He needed to change his clothes, but he'd put that off. 

So he went to his _other_ home. 

"Jim!" 

"Ellison!" 

"How's the kid?" 

"We still got that bitch locked up. How's the kid doing?" 

"Slow down, people. I just got here. I'll tell you all I know when I get the chance." 

"Ellison!" Simon's bellow silenced the office. 

Jim grinned. "After I tell Simon." 

Simon had a cup of coffee waiting for him. He gestured for Jim to sit down. 

"How's the kid?" 

" _Blair_ is awake and alert and aware of his surroundings. I haven't asked him about yesterday yet. He started out kind of slurred, but that's pretty much gone." 

"Any other problems?" 

"They're testing now. I think his attention span has been affected, but with Blair, who can tell?" 

Simon laughed out loud. "Yeah, you never could pin the kid down to any subject. No other problems?" 

"There's something wrong with his hands, but no one is saying anything." 

"Damn. And no one knows anything?" 

"Simon, this is Blair. You know he'll fight his way back." 

"Yeah. Nothin' but stubborn." If Jim had heard that much pride in his father's voice, he'd never have run away. Simon took some papers out of his desk. "We need to get this done, Jim. We don't want Blair to have to pay a dime more than he needs to. Between the university and the station, he shouldn't have to." He handed the papers to Jim. "We just need to reassure the companies that it was on campus, and in the line of duty. I'm glad we have him on salary now, and that it happened in his office. She went after _him_." 

"Is he still on salary?" 

"No. I couldn't do that much. Unpaid medical leave is the best I could do. The university is holding his position until the end of summer." 

Jim nodded. It was about what he'd expected. He began to fill out the insurance form. 

"And, Jim...I'm putting you down for vacation for the next two days, and then we'll see. If you need to, we'll get you an extended leave of absence or put you on half-time if you can manage it." 

"Simon..." 

"I know. It's too soon to tell." 

"Yeah. I'm sorry. Have you had any progress contacting Naomi?" 

"We've tracked her down as far back as last month, but so far we have no clues as to where she is now. Damn that woman. Her only child is in the hospital - again! - and she's nowhere to be found." 

"You'll find her, Simon. Either that or she'll turn up here on her own." Jim rubbed his eyes. 

"Jim, I know you didn't sleep well last night. Go out and tell _Blair's_ fanclub all the news, and then go back to your place and rest." 

"My place? My place is empty. Blair's not there." 

"Jim, listen to me. Please. Jim, this is an order. After you talk yourself hoarse out there, go home." 

"Yes, sir." 

He made short work of the "fan club." They were all encouraging him to go home, too. 

He walked into the loft, expecting the cold, empty rooms he'd left behind. Instead, he stood in the doorway and stared. Every stick of furniture had been replaced, and most of it almost in the right place. It would only take a little moving and pushing to get things right again. Even Blair's things, the things he'd packed in those boxes, the boxes that made him cringe, were more or less where they belonged. It was almost a home again. 

The only thing that was missing was Blair. He'd been Jim's home for years now. He'd just hadn't let himself know that. This was just a familiar place where they'd lived. Even so, it was good to have as it used to be. 

But it might not be able to stay like this. He didn't know what Blair would need when he returned. At the least, he'd have to improve the accessability of some things. He didn't even know if Blair could _walk_. It didn't matter, though. Whatever Blair needed, he would get. 

Two hours later, showered, shaved and in clean clothes and after running a couple of errands, Jim was back at the hospital. He'd been called when the tests were finished and Blair was settled into his new room. 

"Hey, Jim." Blair smiled wearily and lifted an arm in greeting. "I almost need a machete to get to you, Chief. Look at all these plants." He kissed Blair lightly on the lips. 

"I could open a flower shop. And a toy store. Look." Using his whole arm, he indicated a collection of teddy bears. "They're from everyone. People from the university, cops, people we've met along the way. I can't get over it." 

"I'm not surprised, Angel. Everyone's just happy you're still with us. Here. Something else for the toy store." 

"Another bear?" 

Jim shook his head and handed the new toy to Blair. Blair's eyes widened. "A stuffed wolf! Oh, God. How did you know...You've been having visions again. Tell me about them." Meanwhile, he awkwardly cuddled the beast. 

Jim was about to do as Blair asked when an orderly came to the door. 

"Are you Mr. Ellison?" 

"Yeah." 

"Can you see Dr. Glasser now?" 

"I don't know..." 

"Go, Jim. I'm exhausted after those tests. I'll just take a nap." He settled down into the bed, the wolf still in his arms. Moments later, he was fast asleep. 

"I guess I can go." The orderly led him to an office a few doors away, and let him in. 

"Mr. Ellison? I'm Marc Glasser." The doctor stretched out his hand, and Jim clasped it firmly. Glasser was in his forties, with a Cowardly Lion mane of graying dark curls and a matching short beard. 

"Good to meet you, Dr. Glasser." 

"Marc." He gestured to a sitting area. 

"Jim." Jim sat on a chair. Glasser took the couch perpendicular to it. 

"Jim, I asked you here for a reason. Blair's chart says that you live together." 

"We're roommates, if that's what you mean." 

"You're more than roommates." 

"Doc, is that any of your business?" Jim made as if to rise from the chair. 

"Yeah, it is, in that it affects my patient and his treatment. What I'm about to say to you is what I would say to Blair's wife if he had one." 

"Never thought of myself as anyone's _wife_ before." He grinned. 

"Does it bother you?" 

Jim thought for a moment. "No. It doesn't. So, what would you tell the mythical Mrs. Sandburg?" 

"First - we conducted a long series of tests on Blair today. I expect he's exhausted." 

"The kid was fast asleep when I left his room. How did they go?" 

"Fairly well. You know that hypoxia causes a more global brain damage? No specific area of the brain is affected?" 

"Yeah." 

"All right. Blair woke up this morning with very blurred speech. As the day wore on, it improved dramatically. There is still a slight blurring, but it would take an expert to hear it, and I expect that to be gone by tomorrow. On the other hand, his attention span is still very short. This made testing somewhat difficult, since we had to keep telling him to focus. He was willing to extend the effort, however. Blair said that he has always been easily distracted, but he's learned to cope." 

"So this won't be a problem?" 

"Time will tell. Blair is extremely intelligent, which helps in these situations. Actually, it always helps." He smiled. "Physically, Blair has several deficits, both mild and severe, all relating to motor control. He's already regained a lot of control over his arms and legs, and he should be able to walk supported in a day or so. The sooner, the better, of course." 

Jim nodded. "Don't want his muscles losing tone." 

"That's part of it. We also want to be able to start making new neural pathways for those functions that were damaged. To continue. He has little or no fine motor control in his hands or his feet. The feet will be easier, but he will have to learn to balance and walk all over again. Eventually, he should have full mobility." 

Jim nodded. "What about his hands?" 

"Those will take longer, but with therapy, I'm hopeful that he will regain full functionality." 

"What does that mean?" 

"It means that we believe Blair will regain enough use of his hands and fingers to be able to do pretty much anything." 

"But he won't get everything back?" 

"We don't know. He may need to change the way he does certain things, but given time, therapy and some adaptation, he should be fine." 

"Blair is adaptable." 

"And that's another plus. His therapy will have two goals. One is to train him to use what he has _now_ to take care of himself and do what he needs. The other is to increase what he has as much as possible. The therapist thinks that he should at least get control of his wrist and thumbs shortly." 

"Would that be enough?" 

"With the right equipment, Blair should be able to manage quite well." 

"That's good." 

"Now, we come to you." Glasser looked straight at Jim. 

"What about me?" 

"Jim, Blair is going to be here for several weeks at the very least. And I can see right now that you're planning to take a leave of absence and spend your all your time here, helping him or keeping him company." 

"You got that right, Doc." 

"Don't. Go back to work. See Blair as often as possible, of course. We'll make you part of his therapy, and you'll get some training, too, for when he gets home, but you have to live your own life." 

"Blair _is_ my life." 

Glasser sighed. "Jim, you need to take care of yourself. That's the best way to help Blair. He will need you when he goes home, and he needs to know now that you aren't just waiting for him." 

"You sure?" 

"Jim...go to work again. If you can manage it, at least part time. Get out of the hospital. Go to a Jags game. Go out with friends." 

"Without Blair?" 

Glasser smiled. "Do your best." He stood up. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Jim. We'll be talking often, I think." 

Jim shook his hand again. "Take care of Blair for me, Marc. He's special." 

"He is, indeed." He walked Jim to the door. 

The doctor was right. By working part time at the station and taking some evenings to himself - with Blair's blessing - he could bethat much better with Blair. The days fell into a rhythm. In the mornings, he'd go to the station and do desk work. Occasionally, he'd go out with Megan as his partner. Since she now knew about his senses, she could keep him from zoning out. She wasn't Blair - no one was - but she was enough. The afternoons were for Blair. He'd comb and braid Blair's hair; serve as a goal for Blair to walk or swim to and deliver whatever books, magazines or notes Blair needed. Blair was trying to write his dissertation by talking into a tape recorder. It was a couple of weeks before he could handle a pen, even with a special holder, and typing was out of the question. He could only bear to work on it for a few minutes at a time, but he managed by writing _another_ dissertation - the one on closed societies. He kept two recorders to keep them straight. And, of course, they kissed whenever they got the chance. By unspoken agreement, they would not do more than kiss until Blair came home. 

The nights were for himself. He sometimes spent them watching TV with Blair, and sometimes he went out with people from work, but he spent many of them modifying the loft. He liked working with his hands. 

Blair's therapy went rapidly in the first few weeks. Every time Jim came it, it seemed like Blair had something new to show him. "Jim - look!" And there he'd be - standing without support. Which, of course, earned him a kiss. 

"Jim - look!" He walked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, all by himself across a room. 

"Jim - look!" He carefully lifted his arm in the air and bent his wrists back and forth. 

"Jim - look!" He wiggled both thumbs in triumph. 

His therapist, a woman named Sharon with a mountain of red curls tumbling her shoulders, began to really train him then. She gave him holders with rings because he couldn't grip at all, and taught him to use them to write and to feed himself. 

One day, Jim came in to find Blair combing his own hair with a specially modified comb. 

"I thought that was my job, Chief." He felt vaguely disappointed. 

Blair looked distraught. "Oh, God, Jim. I thought you'd be happy." 

"I am. I'll miss it, though." 

"I'm still working on braiding it. And you better not stop taking care of it. I love the feeling of your hands in my hair. And, Jim...next time, bring in my laptop. Sharon's going to show me how to type." Blair was grinning again. 

"Good. Then you'll have your games to distract you, too." 

"Not distract. Just an extra task." 

After six weeks, though, things leveled off. Blair could mostly take care of himself. He could balance on the balls of his feet and walk fairly quickly, although he needed a little support. He could even climb stairs. He couldn't run, though. He lost his balance too quickly without the extra support of his toes. That would come with time. 

Using the ring holders and a lot of patience, Blair could feed himself and write legibly if slowly. He was even able to cook fairly well, although some packaging was beyond him and he couldn't disjoint chickens yet. He couldn't touch type, but there were voice programs he could use, and he was getting better at using two sticks velcro'd to his hands. He could take care of his own hygiene, too, which was a tremendous relief to him. Sharon had even found masculine looking clips so that he could fasten his hair back himself. He could have cut it but Jim was disappointed at the idea and Sharon pointed out that they'd never ask a woman to do that. 

All this had been true a week earlier, but now he seemed stalled. Jim could see how frustrated he was. He'd been trying to eat with the oversized handles instead of the rings for two weeks now, and maybe got one mouthful in ten. 

"I'm really going home, big guy?" Blair's smile was brilliant as Jim held his hands. 

"Yes. Tonight." 

"But I'll still see you tomorrow, Blair." Sharon grinned. 

"So long as I get to sleep in my own bed, I'm happy." _His_ bed? Jim blinked, and then he saw Blair's face. 

"Maybe more than sleep, angel." 

"Guys, do this on your own time." 

The staff had gotten used to the two of them. Blair managed to conquer the two homophobes to the point that one, a scrawny little orderly, had informed Jim that if he didn't treat Blair right, the orderly would hurt him badly. 

"And I don't care how big you are, neither." 

Jim solemnly promised to treat Blair like gold. 

"Yeah, well, you better. Or I'll find out." And the little man walked away muttering imprecations against faggots who didn't treat guys right and how he'd just blow them away. 

It took a little while to get Blair out. Not only did he need to shower and dress - all by himself - but the entire Neuro wing had to say goodbye. They even had to wait while nightshift people came in. 

And then he had to go to the children's floor. It seems Blair had become storyteller-in-chief almost from the first day, when he had to enlist a child's aid to turn pages. 

"You'll come back to see us, right Blair?" 

Blair made his own solemn promise that he'd stop by every day after therapy. And he'd have more stories of the wolf and the jaguar, too. 

"Wolf and jaguar, Chief?" 

"Yeah. There's this knight, you see. He's the jaguar. And his squire is the wolf, and they fight battles all over the galaxy." 

"What sort of battles?" 

"Drugs, bad guys, killers...you know." 

"Sandburg, what are you telling them?" 

"Nothing...Sir James." And he kissed Jim. 

Jim kept a close watch on Blair's face when they entered the loft together. 

"Oh God, Jim! What did you do?" 

"I redecorated a little. What do you think?" 

"You put up another bannister?" 

"Well, me and the guys, but yeah." It had taken a week, but he was truly proud of it. It looked like it had been built _with_ the house. 

"Where are the area rugs?" 

"Stored away. I like the bare floor." There was also less for Blair to trip over. 

Blair wandered towards the kitchen. 

"This is amazing! New knobs on the cabinets, new faucet handles...and all this equipment." 

"Needed a change." The knobs and faucets were larger and could be opened and operated with the side of a hand. And Sharon had suggested the cooking equipment that would let Blair continue to be a gourmet cook despite everything. 

He went into the bathroom. 

"You changed stuff in here, too. You must have been up at all hours." 

"I had plenty of help, Chief. And you are worth every effort. Besides, I like the new look." 

"What else did you do? My room... Jim, it's wonderful." 

"A professor needs a study. I've already had your special software installed on the computer, and all your equipment is there - even two tape recorders. You could get to work tomorrow if you wanted to." 

"I don't believe it. Why?" 

"Because I love you and this is your home. And a man should be able to live in his home without needing extra help." 

"Oh, God, Jim. I love you!" The next thing Jim knew, he had an armful of Blair. He held him close to his chest and nuzzled his hair. Nothing had ever felt so right. 

And then Blair began to kiss him, first gently and then passionately. As usual, Jim began to lose himself in those kisses. Blair led them to the couch, where Jim gathered Blair into his lap and Blair continued to kiss him wherever he could find skin, although Jim's mouth was his favorite spot. Jim responded with all the love and need he'd built up in those past weeks, in those past years. 

Blair must have felt his arousal because he chuckled. "I think it's time we took this party upstairs, lover." Jim glanced at Blair's lap. Oh, yes. Blair was ready, too. 

"You want a ride, angel?" 

"Not this time. I'll walk." He slithered off Jim's lap after a final kiss and, resting his fists on both bannisters, walked upstairs without a bobble. 

Jim followed him, his mouth suddenly dry as a bone. 

He found Blair sitting on the bed, unvelcro'ing his sneakers. "Need any help, Chief?" 

"I got it, Jim. Undressing is one of my major skills." Once upon a time, Jim might have fantasized about Blair slowly undressing in front of him. Now, though, he swiftly removed his own clothing while watching his lover. Blair wore loose pullover shirts and elastic waist sweatpants. By pressing his thumbs against the side of his forefingers, he managed to hold on to his clothing as needed. He was undressed almost as quickly as Jim. He lay back on the bed. At that sight, Jim not only was nervous, he was hard as a rock. Blair was... 

"Beautiful. I can't believe how beautiful you are." He was perfectly proportioned. All that therapy had built muscles, just visible beneath a layer of soft, dark curls that were thickest at his chest and groin. And there, in that fur, was Blair's penis. The monster was pointing straight up and it was glistening as Blair smiled at him. 

"Look who's talking. I need to get my mouth on that skin of yours. I've been dreaming of doing that _forever_ , Jim." 

"Chief...Blair...I don't know how to say....Blair, I've never had sex with a man before." 

Blair sat up. "Jim, if we're going too fast..." 

"No. No. I want this. I've dreamed of this. I've wanted men, Blair. I just never _acted_ on it before. You were the first man I kissed, and now you'll be the first man who'll..." 

"Jim...I'll guide you through this, but I've only been on top." 

Jim's penis jumped. "That's what I want. I want you to make love to me, to be _in_ me." 

"Oh, yes. Yes. Come here." Blair opened his arms and Jim entered them. Something inside of him relaxed for the first time in years, or perhaps the first time ever. He was in Blair's arms and that was where he was supposed to be. 

He began to kiss and taste Blair, covering his face and working his way down that perfect body, stopping only to nuzzle the thick patch of fur in the middle of his chest. He smelled of Blair and soap and lust and Jim found himself getting drunk on it. 

Meanwhile, Blair was stroking his back, the clumsy hands surprisingly light and gentle. 

Jim sucked on Blair's nipples. 

"Yes, oh yes!" 

"You like that, Angel?" 

"I like everything you do, big guy." 

Jim gently sucked, kissed and tasted his way to Blair's monster. Jim had fantasized about touching and tasting another man his entire life. Blair had been his fantasy in the last few years. He'd always tried to imagine how it would feel to hold another man in his mouth. He glanced at Blair, who grinned and lied back. Jim tried to swallow him whole. 

It stretched his mouth, but he found room to move his tongue and to suck, to move his head back and forth. It felt like silk and tasted like Blair. It filled in a way of which he'd never dreamed. Then, it was gone and he was empty. 

"Roll over, Jim." Blair's voice was hoarse. 

Jim rolled on his stomach, carefully adjusting himself over his own hardness. Blair dragged a pillow over to him. 

"Here, lover. Under your hips. We need to do this right." Jim found another pillow for his head. His mouth was dry and his heart beat rapidly. 

"Don't worry, big guy. This is going to be good. We won't do anything that doesn't feel good." 

"I know." Jim spoke into his arms. 

"I wish I could rub your back." Before Jim could reply, he felt a rain of kisses on his shoulders, sending shivers up and down his spine. Blair went progressively lower until he reached Jim's cleft. 

"Jim, bend your knees outward, like you were riding a horse." Jim complied. He knew he was exposed to Blair view now. 

And then he felt Blair's tongue on his anus and he was lost again. He rode waves of pure sensation, centered on the actions of that tongue. And then...it was also gone. Jim moaned. "Jim, do we have any..." 

"In...the night stand..." 

Blair found the lube and condoms. 

"I need some help here." At Blair's direction, Jim squeezed a big dollop of lubricant onto Blair's fingers. Blair packed most of it into Jim, and then he began to press his thumb against the sphincter. Jim moaned again and sighed as he felt Blair's thumb enter him and then move, stretching him. Then came the other thumb. Once again, just as he reveled in the feeling, they were gone. 

"Jim...I'm sorry..." Blair knelt in front of him and indicated a condom packet. Jim opened it and rolled it on his lover, and coated it with more lube. Then, at Blair's direction, he lay on his side facing away. 

Jim could feel the head of the penis at his entrance, which had tightened again. 

"It's okay, Jim...tell me if it hurts..." 

"Doesn't...ohh, Blair...." 

Blair insisted and he relented. Jim surrendered to Blair as Blair filled him. This was it, this was what he'd wanted all of his life, if only he'd known it. 

"Oh, man, you feel so good, so tight, so hot..." 

Blair changed the angle slightly. Jim gasped as pleasure jolted through him and he thrust himself up to meet Blair again. 

Time ceased to have meaning as Jim lost himself yet again in sensation. There was only the feel of Blair in him and next to him and the sound of Blair's voice and the odor of their lust and the movement and the lingering taste of Blair in his mouth and Blair was moving faster and harder and holding him and the jolts came and went and came and... 

Blair stopped the pounding and began to jerk back and forth and collapsed on the bed, one arm draped over Jim. 

He lay there for a long moment, until Jim rolled to face him. Carefully, Jim removed the condom. 

Blair smiled. "Let's take care of you, handsome." 

"You have energy left? _I'm_ exhausted, and I haven't even...haven't...oh, baby, that feels incredible." Blair had him in his mouth. Jim twined his hands in Blair's sweaty curls. It didn't take long for him to explode; he was more than ready. He could taste himself in Blair's kiss as he gathered his lover to his chest. He must have swallowed it all. 

"So beautiful..." 

"...love you, James Ellison..." 

End 

Copyright 1998 Debra Fran Baker and NightRoads Associates 


End file.
